One Night At The Force
by The Once and Future Geek
Summary: Anakin (dead, ghosty, Anakin) feels the need to bare his soul over a drink. Humorous result. Please read and review. Flames accepted, I really don't give a hoot. Written for my brother.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, or any characters not thought up by me. This is an Alternative Universe Fic that does not follow the original timeline, in that, Yoda is still relatively young, and alive, but Anakin is indeed deceased. Let's move on, shall we?

One Night At The Force

"…And that's how I became a Sith." said Anakin, as he pondered his ghostly glass and the equally ethereal drink that sloshed airily inside it.

On the barstool next to him sat a young, still living Jedi by the name of Jewel Blade, who was pondering her very existence. It was the quietest she had been since her first day in Yoda's dojo, when he'd knocked her unconscious during a rather ill-conceived and not nearly well-paid for assassination attempt. He would have killed her if she hadn't shown such potential with the Force.

And now she was his pupil, which was as good as it was bad; Good because it kept her out of the other Jedis' hair (or other, appropriate appendage), not excepting times like these, when Yoda was sleeping and Jewel could keep her own hours; Bad because Yoda had become a crotchety old fart since taking her on as an apprentice, and was becoming a terror to the other inhabitants of the Old Folks Home.

Tonight, she was at a local bar on Coruscant, about a hundred rooftops away from the Old Folks Home, in case Yoda needed her.

He was her mentor, but she also considered him a trusted friend, which was how a mentor was supposed to be. So if he ever required her assistance, provided there were no extenuating circumstances, such as her being dead, she would lend a hand.

To her right, pouring his soul out over a vaporous shot glass of Vegares Vodka (lethal stuff to the living and providing a quite pleasant buzz for the not quite as lively), was Anakin Skywalker, who sometimes came to see Luke and Leia, and usually ended up going 'home' drunk and depressed, and wishing he could kill himself, despite the unchangeable fact that he's…well, dead.

"Is it now?" she said at last, still staring at her own glass, which she had just emptied of a fifth shot of Kashyyykian Whiskey. It had been bought for her by a friend of hers that had been in earlier, but he'd had to leave because he and his uncle were going somewhere.

"Yup." nodded Anakin, eyes closed as his head floated six inches above his neck. Not literally, of course. Just 'cause he's dead doesn't mean he's a magician. Jewel looked at him and sighed.

"You're a moron." she exhaled, without any fear of retribution. She almost never felt fear about speaking the truth, or at least her honest opinion.

Anakin's eyes opened as those words penetrated his drunken stupor, and he frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're a moron?" she repeated, eyebrow raising as she rested her head against her hand and looked at him. He stared at her.

"Wha…" he started, but he couldn't quite comprehend what she was saying.

"Let me break it down for you." she said, taking a deep breath and speaking as she would a child. "When you found out that Palpatine was the Sith Lord that you had been looking for in order to bring to justice, what was your first instinct?" she asked. He made a face, but answered.

"To kill him." he said, throwing back the rest of his drink and nodding to the bartender, who rolled her five eyes but grabbed the bottle and walked over, pouring it into his glass.

"Right, exactly. Leadership would have been assumed by someone who was just as devious but not quite as smart and the Rebellion would have ended their attack in a matter of months, perhaps weeks. But you didn't, so you're a moron."

"But I—"

"Anakin, I totally understand your reasons for hesitance. Padme could have died, which she did anyway, etcetera and all that…" she said, waving and gesturing so wildly and drunkenly that her hand went through him three times without her noticing it. "But you're still a fucking idiot. I would slap you, but my hand seems to have gone numb. Good night. Good night Merle, I'll settle my bill tomorrow when I'm sober." she said, and then stumbled to her feet, making for the exit.

Anakin watched her leave and then turned back to his shot glass. He thought about what she had said and blinked rapidly, pushing the shot glass away from him.

The bar, which everyone called 'The Force' because it was a well known hang out for dead and not so dead Jedi and Sith, was half full of ethereal beings who either knew or were influenced by Anakin, and at that simple action, half of them looked up from their own activities.

"Oh, shite, here he goes again." said a bearded patron of the pub as he set down his ale and got to his incorporeal feet. "Ani…"

"It's not worth it, Dooku!" wailed the ghost, as he too got to his feet, and dashed for the door.

Still more ghosts and people looked up and watched this.

"Was that Anakin?"

"He's not committing suicide again, is he?"

"I should say not, considering he's dead already."

"Poor chap."

"Stupid idiot, you mean."

This was punctuated by a slap and a girlish yelp, and then Anakin was being thrown back into the bar, followed by Dooku, who sighed, annoyed.

The End


End file.
